Chapter 5

On the seventh day after Geoffrey's wounds had healed, trouble came knocking.

Early that morning, Jennifer went to the well by the village entrance to fetch some water. It wasn't far from her place. She carried her bucket, filled it up, and was heading home when she bumped into a group of folks.

They were from the Hunter family, the big shots in town.

The Hunter family was the most powerful around, running several shops and even an escort agency. The old man of the Hunter family had a son, Nicholas Hunter, who strutted around like he owned the place—nobody dared mess with him.

The guy leading the group was Nicholas's sidekick, Hund Barnett.

When Hund spotted her, his eyes lit up.

"Hey, isn't this the Bennett girl? So, your dad still hasn't come back yet?"

Jennifer's heart tightened, but she kept her cool.

"Hund, do you happen to know where my father is?" she asked.

Hund chuckled slyly. "Sure, I know, but..."

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Your old man was gambling in town, lost big, and now owes Nicholas 20 silver coins.

"Can't pay up, so Nicholas is holding him until you cough up the cash. If you want your dad back, better bring the money."

Jennifer gripped the bucket handle tighter. 'Twenty silver coins?

'We barely make three or four silver coins a year. Twenty? Even selling myself wouldn't fetch that much.'

"Hund, you must be kidding," she said, taking a step back. "My father never gambles."

"Never gambles?" Hund snickered. "If your old man doesn't gamble, then who signed this note for 20 silver coins?"

He pulled out a slip of paper from inside his jacket and flashed it.

Jennifer took a look, her heart sinking.

It was her father's handwriting.

"Three days, that's all you've got," Hund said, tucking the note away. "Bring 20 silver coins to town and buy your dad back. If you miss the deadline, Nicholas says he'll let the wolves in the mountains have your old man."

He barked out a couple of laughs, then headed off with his crew.

Jennifer stood there, rooted to the spot, not moving a muscle.

The wind whipped past, icy and sharp, stinging her skin.

She had no idea how long she stayed like that—her hands went numb, and she nearly dropped the bucket. Only then did she finally head home, slow and unsteady.

Back home, she poured the water into the big jar, made breakfast, and set it by her mother's bed.

Molly looked at her, worry in her eyes. "Jennifer, what's wrong?"

Jennifer managed a smile. "It's nothing, Mom. Eat up."

Molly didn't press, just took the bowl and ate slowly.

Jennifer walked over to the stove, squatted down, and fed the fire with a few pieces of wood.

Geoffrey leaned against the side of the bed, watching her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She kept her back to him.

"Nothing," she said quietly.

Geoffrey didn't press.

But later that afternoon, when she went out to gather firewood, he followed her.

"What's really going on?" he asked.

Jennifer's hands stilled for a moment, then she went back to picking up sticks.

"My father's been detained. They're demanding 20 silver coins for his release," she said.

Geoffrey fell silent for a moment.

"I don't have any silver coins," he said.

"Yeah, I know."

She grabbed a few more sticks and stood up. "I'll handle it myself."

Geoffrey looked at her.

"So, what's your plan?" he asked.

Jennifer didn't answer.

'What plan? What could I possibly do? Go to town and take odd jobs? There's no way I'd make 20 silver coins in just three days. Try to borrow the money? Who around here has that kind of cash lying around?' she thought.

Truth was, she had no clue what to do.

But she had no choice—she had to try.

He was her dad.

Geoffrey watched her, then suddenly said, "That sword, maybe we could sell it for some cash."

Jennifer was taken aback and looked up at him.

"What sword?" she asked.

"My sword," Geoffrey replied. "We could probably get a few silver coins for it if we sell it in town."

Jennifer suddenly remembered when Geoffrey first arrived, he really did have a sword with him. It had been resting by the bed ever since. She'd noticed it while cleaning up: a black, unremarkable scabbard, nothing about it that stood out.

"That's your sword," she said, shaking her head. "I can't accept something like that."

"I'm not giving it to you," Geoffrey said. "I'm just lending it."

Jennifer looked at him.

He met her gaze, his eyes still deep and bright.

"Once you've got the silver, pay me back," he said.